So Happy I Could Die
by M.Betts
Summary: Puck takes Rachel to a club for her 21st birthday, drinking ensues. Written with "So Happy I Could Die" by Lady Gaga in mind. Right now it's a oneshot, but let me know if I should try to continue.


**This is the second fic I've ever written and first for this fandom/pairing. Please let me know what you think, especially in terms of ooc-ness because that's my biggest worry when it comes to writing, but any other critiques or praises are fine too.**

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"Happy Birthday Berry!" Puck shouts over the bass pumping through the club. He hands Rachel a pink martini and takes a sip of his beer. She tastes the sweat from his hand on the rim of her glass, savoring the saltiness of his fingertips as the vodka and triple sec slide down her throat.

"But I wanted to buy my own! You know, now that I'm officially old enough to legally consume an alcoholic beverage in a public venue such as this..." Rachel scans the club, taking in the raucous dancing and strobe light effects before continuing, "... _fine_ establishment."

"Just drink up. Next round is on you." Puck says leaning down until his lips brush against her ear. She feels her face get warm quite suddenly, but when she looks to Puck he's looking away; checking out some girl with an outfit Rachel feels is unfit for public. Surely that dress allows no adequate room to breathe, let alone dance. She looks down at her own outfit - a short, black, a-line skirt and a cerise blouse she thought was cute enough, while leaving something up to the imagination and retaining her dignity.

Rachel downs the last remnants of her martini and tells Puck she's going to the bar for another. She doesn't bother to scream over the music resonating from the speakers overhead just as he doesn't bother to tear his head away from the lavender blonde on the dance floor as he absently nods.

An hour and several rounds later, Rachel's speech beings to slur, the floor begins to spin, and she hardly remembers that first drink, the one she didn't buy with her I.D. clearly notifying she was 21 as of midnight (in case there was anyone in the club that she hadn't told by now.)

Puck catches Rachel just as she leans against a stranger on the dance floor for support, grasping her around the waist with one hand and grabbing her bottle of red wine just as she's about to clunk him in the head with it.

"Woah Berry, where did you get a whole bottle of wine?" he questions, honestly baffled.

"Where did youuu get a whole hickey?" she retorts with a smirk teasing the edges of her lips.

"Okay Berry, let's get some fresh air, come on" he says, putting down the empty wine bottle on the first table he sees. With both arms free he moves behind her and snakes one around her waist, using the other to guide them both through the mass of people blocking the entrance.

"Y'know Noel Duckmen, you're my best friend," Rachel slurs out "and there's somethin' else too!" she giggles.

Puck doesn't think he's ever seen her like this: free, and almost normal, almost bearable to be around. They both stumble outside and the cool air hits them like a rogue wave, the silent coolness is a shock to the system compared to the atmosphere inside the club. Puck looks at Rachel, he doesn't want to forget the way her hair is plastered against her face from sweat, and the way she's looking into his eyes right now, and the way hers are lit up with flecks of gold despite the darkness of the night around them.

She breaks the silence and continues her one sided conversation, "Duuuu-uck," she sing-songs "don't ya wanna know what else?" Rachel's speech is slurred and now sounds muffled as it falls onto his ears out in the crisp night air, but she continues "Well I'll tell you what else..." she steps closer to Puck, bending her index finger to draw him nearer "I love you." she whispers.

He almost forgets it's Rachel, or maybe he almost forgets he's Puck with a reputation to uphold, because he almost believes her, or almost wants to. His head is spinning with the possibility of them being different people in a different situation, but he knows nothing has changed since high school, at least for Rachel, because she still wants everything too much. Everything except Puck.

"No you don't Berry." he finally states with reluctance.

"Yes I do!" she screams into the night air, jutting out her bottom lip to form a pout.

His breath hitches somewhere deep in his chest and he recalls something he read somewhere, probably on the back of a cereal box or something, because Noah Puckerman doesn't _do_ reading. '_The drunken tongue speaks the sober mind.' _So what if it was true, what if the talented Rachel Berry could really love a Lima loser like him?

He thinks about moving in to kiss her when Rachel's head bows down with the sound of splattering against the sidewalk. The next thing Puck knows, he's riding a bus barefoot with Rachel's head in his lap snoring. He looks down at her and picks up his hand as his rough fingertips dance over her brow to tuck a few silk chestnut strands behind her ear. With a clearer view of her serene face, he leans forward and places a kiss atop her head whispering "Happy 21st Rachel."


End file.
